Standing on the threshold, your future unmapped
who knows what adventures lie ahead?
which paths will you take?
which avenues will you dawdle down?
what rewards will you seek?
Everything lies before you
the big world beckons.
Choose wisely, my son
but not too wisely.
Life’s not a dress rehearsal.
Written in response to Sadje’s What Do You See #50 photo prompt.
Image credit: Sean Lee – Unsplash
Little heart fluttering
in the palm of my hand
what delight to share a moment
with such a pretty little creature!
Won’t you stay awhile?
Scooped from the rail
my tiny bones quake
and now, eyes squeezed shut
I wait for the giant to crush me
in its big, clumsy fist.
Be calm, little bird
do not fear me
allow me to look more closely
admire the beauty
of your bright plumage.
The hand seems gentle
but I shan’t be taken in.
I open a wary eye
prepare for flight
I’m gone!
Farewell, little bird
I’ll listen for your song
here by the lake
me, in gentle harmony
with nature.
Written in response to Sadje’s What Do You See #49 photo prompt.
Image credit: Evan Clark – Unsplash
The light of experience illuminates
the wealth of knowledge expounds
but the real truth lies
behind the words
in the depths of the speaker’s soul.
Written in response to Sadje’s What Do You See #48 photo prompt.
Image credit: Mohammad Hoseini Rad – Unsplash
Purple robes from the snot of snails, rays from the tails of mango-fed cows.
Colour-wash fades, dribbles down the page,
Feeble brush strokes
weep over wet
paper.
In a misery of contempt she kicks the traces of her fractious art.
Screw it up and start again!
Ground from stones, hewn from rocks
poisonous pigments from the artist’s jewel box
cobalt and lead, one blue, one red
the venomous tools of her craft.
Carving curves with furious angst
passions explode and erode
while careless cadmium spatterings
join dread smears on the studio floor.
Scissoring through shards of purple-pink silk
the blood on the carpet of despair
raising her brush she rages on
rending the canvas in two.
Written in response to Sadje’s What Do You See #47 photo prompt.
Image credit: Elena Mozhvilo – Unsplash
sand
at the back of the throat
chords strung taut
bloated tongue, swells
says nothing.
time
runs through the hourly glass
empty now
confession calls
tell nothing.
life
sands of time spilling out
dunes shifting
time, after all
is nothing.
Written in response to Sadje’s What Do You See #46 photo prompt.
Image credit: Dan Grinwis – Unsplash
We watch you dance in the sunlight
admiring your graceful fluidity
your total abandonment
to your art.
We watch you dance from our windows
confined inside, with limbs
no longer able
to obey.
That freedom, which once was ours
lives on, as we watch
while you dance
for us too.
Written in response to Sadje’s What Do You See #44 photo prompt.
Image credit: Joel Valve – Unsplash
I hesitate, wondering why the two familiar-looking droids have just walked past the ship without a glance. Then I remember; Captain James T Kirk and his landing party couldn’t to see our ship when they encountered it on a similar bleak planet.
I’ll have to go outside.
The rear hatch obligingly opens as I approach and I hover in the doorway as the ramp descends. It connects with the sandy surface of the unknown planet with a thud. Artoo’s head spins around to face me, and he utters a surprised ‘bloop’.
‘What is it, Artoo?’ asks his golden-coloured companion, barely glancing in his direction.
The little droid’s head spins around again, making a series of excited beeps causing his companion to turn around.
‘Oh!’ Cee-Threepio’s eyes light up. ‘Master Luke must have sent you to rescue us,’ he says.
And here I was hoping that they would rescue me!
Cee-Threepio’s arms jerk from side to side as trots eagerly towards me. ‘I take it there is a space-craft of some kind behind you?’
Before I have the chance to reply, Cee-Threepio has stepped onto the ramp. He glances over his shoulder. ‘Come along Artoo, don’t dawdle. You don’t want to get left behind again, do you?’
Artoo whoops with mild irritation and clambers onto the ramp.
‘It looks very dark in there, Artoo; you’d better activate your head torch,’ fusses Cee-Threepio. He turns to me. ‘I suppose it’s just a standard transporter?’
I need to take control of the situation.
Once inside, the two droids look at me expectantly. Cee-Threepio is right. The flight deck has become rather gloomy. I glance around at the walls, but they seem solid enough.
‘Is something wrong, Mistress? asks Cee-Threepio. He puts his hand to his mouth. ‘Sorry, we haven’t been introduced! Where are my manners?’
‘I already know who you are.’ I say, managing a grin. ‘I’m Jemma Kirk.’
‘Miss Jemma…’
Our surroundings flicker like a badly-adjusted monitor and the ship lurches disconcertingly. I slide into my seat, gripping the arms. I need help!
Artoo utters a surprised beep and shunts over to the ship’s console where he plugs his scomp link into one of the desktop ports. A moment later he utters a low whistle.
‘He’s says he’s picking up some very strange readings from your ship,’ Cee-Threepio interprets.
Artoo tweets and beeps. Cee-Threepio cocks his head and nods. ‘He says there’s a quantum anomaly, whatever that is.’
With a high-pitched screech Artoo pulls his scomp link from the port. A series of anxious bloops and whistles follow.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Artoo,’ says Cee-Threepio crossly. ‘Somebody’s cat? It sounds like you’ve got your wires crossed.
Then I hear a reassuring sound behind me. I spin around in my seat as a familiar blue box appears.
‘Well I never, what can this be?’ wonders Cee-Threepio.
Artoo makes a chuckling sound followed by what sounds very like a wolf-whistle.
What exactly is a quantum anomaly? And what’s all this about a cat?
How will the Doctor fare in this galaxy far, far away?
Tune in next week for episode 8…
Written in response to a prompt from Susan T. Braithwaite
Genre Scribes Friday Fiction Writing Challenge #51
The challenge this week was torch.
Photo credits: thefactsite.com and character-online.com
I come each day, looking for you
one among so many people
displaced, separated
lost.
Parents from children, husbands from wives
brothers, sisters, friends and lovers,
divided in the melee
of disaster.
Each day I come looking for you
one among so, so many
hanging on to hope
searching for a sign.
Day after day, still there is nothing
but I know in my heart
you’re still out there.
And so I wait.
Written in response to Sadje’s What Do You See #43 photo prompt.
Image credit: Kyle Glenn- Unsplash
Imprisoned inside a fragile façade
yet your inner light still glimmers
hope leaks out from every pore
and your smile still shines from deep within.
Confined within the corporeal
plagued by withering pain
yet the force that the fans your flame
is fuelled by a sharper source.
Your spark will not be extinguished
your spirit will not be crushed
not yet, while there’s hope
for another, better day.
Written in response to Sadje’s What Do You See #42 photo prompt.
Image credit: Lucas Pezeta on Pexels
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